Three Sisters
by ladyalix
Summary: Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa Black were all disappointments, failed attempts for a son and heir. Different as night, dusk, and day they were, but the closest of friends. No one could have expected how their story would end. (A historical-fiction interpretation of the always fascinating saga of the Black sisters.)
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE - THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK 

The villagers called it _ty wrach_ \- witches' house. Unable to pinpoint exactly what was strange about the inexplicably wealthy, secluded family who lived at Rhosader Castle, they blamed faeries, vampires, malevolent spirits; great wealth, a tie to the crown. For generations the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black lived in Llanberis; they were cordial to the rest of the village at best, downright cruel at worst. But always secluded; indeed, no one dared approach them.

In the autumn, 1951, a baby girl was born to Earl Rhosader and his wife, Druella; they called her Lady Bellatrix. A good Welsh baby, with wild black curls and bright berry-brown eyes, she was. But she wasn't a son. And so she was given to the nursemaids and forgotten, except every day at teatime for ten minutes. Eventually Bella, as she called herself, was joined by two more beautiful young disappointments. They were called Andromeda - Didi for short - and Narcissa - better known as Cissy or Cissa. Still there were no sons and the Earl reluctantly handed over his title and fortune to his brother in London when he died.

Bellatrix was nine, Andromeda seven, and Narcissa five; none had ever set eyes on another child. Their only companions were each other; three girls, different in feature and temperament as night, dusk, and day, but identically dressed in their mourning weeds; identically known as disappointments.

Still, as their mother told them, they were better than the Muggles in the valley below. They were destined for greatness, even if that greatness was naught but keeping their glorious magical blood alive another generation, for that was the duty of a pureblood girl.

They were nine, seven, and five, and so they never questioned it.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Bellatrix Black, age thirteen, had never lost a duel.

She drew her wand first at a Gryffindor fourth-year two years before, when she was only a first-year. He had insulted her, perhaps; now she couldn't remember precisely what he had said. Bellatrix may have been bellicose, but she was not one to hold a grudge.

She used no spell stronger than _expelliarmus_ and _stupefy_ but the rage, the desire for vengeance, was so great that she had the boy face-down on the floor, his nose bleeding, whispering for her to stop, that she was right.

It was just then that her head of house, Professor Horace Slughorn, stumbled upon the scene. He furrowed his fat yellow brows at the wispy, dark little girl, her face covered in dirt and scratches standing over a whimpering older boy.

"Miss Black! What is going on?"

Bellatrix bit her lip but looked her teacher squarely in the eye – or as close as she could get at only four feet eleven.

"Nothing."

"Nothing, _sir_ ," corrected Slughorn. Bellatrix didn't answer.

"As abominable as violence is, Miss Black," said Slughorn, "I must admit you have quite a talent, going against someone tice as large and with four times as much magical training as you. Perhaps there is a way you can channel your – erm – skills – more productively. Have you thought about joining dueling club? I run it, you know."

Two years later

Everyone was scared of Bellatrix – at thirteen years old she'd never lost a duel in dueling club and was a star beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team. When her dearest sister traded pinafores and hairbows for black robes and a Slytherin tie, Bella made it quite clear that Hogwarts would be easy for her.

"They're scared of me, so they've got to be nice to you, Didi." Andromeda smiled softly. At eleven she was quite similar in looks to her elder sister, though she was round and comfortable-looking rather than skinny and hard-faced. Her chestnut brown hair was cut with blunt bangs across her forehead – not a stylish haircut by any means, but who was Andromeda to know? For the last two years her only playmate had been Narcissa. Andromeda felt sorry for the youngest Black sister; she had two more very lonely years ahead of her, waiting for her Hogwarts letter.

It would come, of course. The Blacks were all magical. They had been going to Hogwarts since the days of Merlin. Which is why it was so important to keep their bloodline pure – _toujours pur_ as the tapestry said.

Andromeda thought it ironic that she was not the one being left at home. At least she would have had the house-elves as companions. Narcissa knew the house-elves existed to serve the family. They were not friends. But Andromeda found them charming. One young house-elf in particular – he was called Kreacher –was particularly charming. Andromeda was sad to say goodbye to him, knowing no one else in her family would even notice his wit and sensitivity.

"I want to remind you, Andromeda," came Bellatrix's slightly shrill voice, cutting into Andromeda's thoughts and bringing her back to the present, "I know all the right people to be friends with at Hogwarts, and all the people to avoid. You must listen to me, Andromeda, if you're going to be happy here."

Andromeda nodded, though for the first time, she wasn't sure if she believed her sister at all.


End file.
